


Courage

by 21toeternity



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 10:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/21toeternity/pseuds/21toeternity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After starting their relationship, Kurt and Blaine find refuge in the word courage. Years later, Blaine has to have courage of his own (Implied character death–or not if you're an optimist).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courage

**Author's Note:**

> This story is loosely based on Dismantle the Sun by Songbird, which I strongly recommend you read, as it is completely amazing. Anyway, I'm sorry this is such a sad piece; I didn't intend for this to happen. If you need a bit of a pick-me-up, the end of Dismantle the Sun is a lot like how I imagined this would end. Thanks for reading! -C

_Courage._ That’s what I had typed to him, on the single phone in the pristine halls of Dalton Academy, all those years ago. Since then, it had become a motto of sorts: a joint source of comfort. Shoved into a locker? Courage. Sitting in the hospital? Courage. Lonely and afraid? Courage. 

Though it had led me to finding my home, there had been a few times where the simple curves and letters were not enough. Those were the dark times. The times with the drinking, the many instances where I hurt him. 

Maybe those dark times are why I’m here. This could be my screwed up form of penance. Screwed up because, if I die here, on this desolate submarine, I’ll be causing the worst pain upon him I can muster. And that defeats the purpose, doesn’t it. 

A shriek. I feared this would happen. God forbid courage manifests itself as more than the ink on my forearm, injected less than an inch from the scar left by a bigoted crowbar in high school. God forbid it becomes an idea, one that begs to be employed. 

We run, my guys and I. Reese leads, as he always does; followed by Gardener, Franklin, Russo, Miller, and finally Anderson, the soldier with the damn courage tattoo.

Reese is yelling, something about fire. The guys sprint faster, scrambling into the lifeboat, a muddle of limbs and fear. I quickly turn around, realizing Marshall is trailing behind. Marshall, who never shuts up about his pregnant wife and loving family. I look towards the lifeboat, rapidly filling with desperate men. In the back of my mind I recall the thousand and one times at training we were informed of the submarine having two lifeboats. Where the other one was: an answer that blew away with smoke and screams. It rapidly dawned on me that there would not be room for both Marshall and I. Marshall was a purer man than I, one that deserved the refuge of an inflated raft in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. 

“Go,” I shout, pushing him forward. He stalls, and I know it’s because of that damn conscience of his. “Go!” I repeat, this time more frantically. “Penny needs you, Marshall! Go!” By some stroke of luck, the bastard moves, throwing himself and landing flatly on the center of the raft. I barely have time to relish in the man’s safety before the waves pick up. As the boat drifts away, I rip my dog tags from my neck, and chuck them towards the bright orange raft. I figure _he’ll_ want them. 

The submarine is rapidly sinking now. My foot slips on the doorway, and whether it is intentional or not, I couldn’t tell you, submerging me in the icy water. I begin to fight on instinct, for him. For the time over biscuits and coffee cups when I finally told him I loved him. For the time in we laid in my bed, whispering and rubbing noses, breathing in the dizzying aroma of cologne, coffee, and love. I fight for the times I stood behind him in the kitchen, arms around his waist, wanting to tell him everything in the world, but settling for silence. I fight for his father, clapping me on the shoulder while he casually mentions marriage over the roar of the Buckeyes game. 

I fight for what feels like years. My lungs burn, and my limbs grow tired and heavy. I pray to God that he’ll forgive me. That one day, he’ll find another man, and he’ll sit down with his daughter and a photo book, smiling through tears when she points out a curly haired teenager in a striped tie. 

The lack of air available in the middle of the ocean becomes apparent now. I mutter my last goodbyes in my head, wishing the best for Marshall and Penny. Losing consciousness, my thoughts, hopes, and dreams dissolve themselves in the surf. 

_Courage, Kurt,_ I think before my body stills.


End file.
